My Failure
by god-of-crazy
Summary: Where to start...


When I first took command of XCOM, there were already doubts on whether it should have been and that doubt was reinforced during our first month. We suffered casualties that were unacceptable in any ordinary theater of war. Special Forces drawn from all over the world, people who've trained for years, people who fought and survived in the most difficult conditions on Earth, died like cattle herded into a slaughterhouse. The research conducted by Dr. Vahlan and her teams had so far yielded minimal return despite enormous cost and sacrifice. With so little progress, the council bluntly expressed regret that they had lent support and were on the verge of withdrawing all support.

I vehemently denied their judgment and boldly proclaimed that we were the first and last line of defense and that no other entity could possibly win against the forces arrayed against us. To shut us down was to doom us all to be at the mercy of a superior force that by all accounts seemed intent on destroying us. I presented a strong front, but inside, I was desperate for their support. I had read the abduction reports, watch the recordings and witnessed the atrocities that the invaders had committed against humanity. I was frightened. Without the council, without XCOM, mankind would perish. Thankfully, the council relented and grudgingly gave XCOM another month to prove its worth.

It was during this month that we finally managed to develop tactics and strategies that were effective against the aliens. The first time that everyone on the team made it back with minimal injuries, I nearly broke out in maniacal laughter. Weeks afterwards, Dr. Vahlan made numerous breakthroughs, granting us incredible insight into the aliens' weaponry and material science. With Dr. Shen's guidance, the engineering personnel began applying her research. The suits of armour they crafted were remarkable. Each one weighed as much as a Modular Tactical Vest, but direct plasma bolts that would have instantly killed a field operative were now survivable. They also manufactured laser-based weaponry which astounded me. The power output from each blast was capable of punching through 10 centimetres of steel.

With the new equipment, casualties dropped dramatically. For the first time, I felt a spark of optimism. In the following months, we achieved a level of success that surprised the council and me. We repelled invasion forces, rescued key members of our organization, and even downed several alien ships with the aid of our newly launched satellites. At one point, we even recruited a member of the Triad, Shaojie Zhang, who betrayed his brethren for the sake of his conscience. I was initially wary of his involvement, but he proved to be an excellent soldier and leader. We made significant headway and it felt like we were over the hump. And then Newfoundland happened.

It was suppose to be a simple recon mission. The team was to be inserted into a small fishing village to investigate the disappearance of the locals and law enforcement officials. Upon arrival, the team began a methodical sweep of the area. The occasional Chryssalid and the colloquially named zombies were easily dispatched, but it gave us pause. They seem to be coming from nowhere. Given the sudden appearance of these creatures, Dr. Vahlan hypothesized that the aliens were reproducing from the innards of animals like parasites. The host would only need to be the size of a large salmon to provide a suitable breeding ground.

When the team reached the last pier, we discovered the source of the disappearances. Residing within the hull of a ship was the bloated, festering corpse of a whale. The scans indicated hundreds of Chryssalids incubating within the body. I immediately ordered the activation of the ship's transponder to provide a targeting solution for our fighter jets. As quickly and quietly as they could, they set about conducting my orders, but the movement on the ship alerted the Chryssalids and they began pouring out of the whale. I told my team to get the hell out of there.

They made a fighting retreat back to the drop point, but it was only a few minutes later that I realized my error in judgement when accounting for factors in the area of operations. I forgot they were in a fishing village surrounded by marine life. Suddenly I hear reports through the comm that Chryssalids were coming in from all directions. I could hear their clacking and roars throughout mission control. An orderly retreat became a frantic dash back to the drop zone. And then the unthinkable happened. Angela, found herself trapped by a trio of Chryssalid. They immediately gutted her. Her screams echoed off the walls and to this day I still dream of them.

I suffered losses before but none like this one. It hollowed me out. She was there from the beginning and was the first one to survive a deployment. She shouldered the burden when others faltered. She kept countless others alive through nightmarish drops. She was a sublime marksman who was courageous under fire. She died horribly.

Mallory flew into a rage and began a lone assault on the horde, heedless of care or duty. She idolized Angela, and although we joked about her being her little sister, I believe she would have been just as capable as Angela. I would never find out as they set upon her like rabid dogs. The new recruit, Jake, fared admirably, drawing attention away from his fleeing teammates. He was uncannily brave in the face of impossible odds. I've known him only for days, and yet, I keenly felt his death as he was torn apart.

Zhang managed to cut open an escape route while dragging Mark whose right arm was a bleeding stump. With unerring aim and calm, he killed Chryssalids that came within meters of his person. All doubts I had about him were gone that day. In the face of certain death, he would leave no one behind. But his heroism was in vain. As he fought against a cluster of those things, one of them tore Mark from his grasp in an act that was both deliberate and cruel. Mark screamed to Zhang to run as he primed the grenades in his belt to explode. Zhang barely evaded the shower of fragmentation and chitin plating. He was knocked him to the ground at the same time a Chryssalid came bearing down on him. He quickly swung his LMG around and fired upon the creature while struggling to get back to his feet. Once it fell dead upon the ground, he began to run.

When Zhang came into view of the Sky Ranger, he saw Jay, our sniper, the co-pilot and pilot at the ramp laying down covering fire. Zhang quickly tossed his weapon and just sprinted. When he was nearly there, the pilot dropped his rifle to the ground and rushed back to the cockpit. Once on-board the Sky Ranger, Zhang grabbed the discarded rifle and shouted to lift off. He, Jay and the co-pilot risked going overboard as they gunned down the charging Chryssalid's from the ramp opening until they reached a safe altitude.

Moments later, Zhang reported that Angela had arisen. She was running towards the Sky Ranger like a moth to a light. Her jaw worked up and down, shouting incoherently waving her arms in front of her as though she was trying to pluck the aircraft from the sky. I was so consumed by fury and grief that I barely choked out the words to put that thing down. Jay calmly raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.

Soon after they were in the air rocketing away, the first of the missiles impacted the village. I watched from the camera feed of the Sky Ranger as explosion after explosion ripped apart the small community. It was a firestorm that was visible for kilometers. When the last of the payload was delivered, a deathly quiet hung in the air and everyone was still. Bradford, usually solid and assuring, seemed to have lost his voice as well. It was as if the brutality was being etched into our minds, replaying over and over. I couldn't let them linger on what happened. I cleared my throat and issued orders to have the infirmary stand by and to have teams scrambled to comb the area for Chryssalids. Haltingly at first, but surely, they began moving again.

In the midst of the activity, I looked around mission control and wondered, and not for the first time, if this would be the day. For more than a year, these men and women witnessed the death and maiming of our soldiers and the horrors inflicted upon us by the invaders. Many times I could sense one or more just at the edge of the cliff. Each time I thought I had to step in they would pull themselves back and carry on. Today, they would do so again. I truly believe that I will never command a finer group.

It would be hours later before Bradford convinced me to rest. I reluctantly agreed. Along the way to my quarters, I came upon a few of the communication specialists from mission control. They were talking about Newfoundland. More specifically, they were talking about me. When one of them saw me, they immediately stopped and stood at attention. I gave them a nod and continued on my way.

I'm not oblivious to gossip. I keep a close ear to the ground. Many in the base consider me to have a heart of cold iron. I'm both resented and admired, but regardless of what they feel, they all believe that I'm the one to lead them to victory. I'm glad that I'm that pillar of strength to them. I know the worth of having someone to lean on. I wish for that comfort, but I don't have that luxury. There are weeks where morale is razor thin and the last thing my people need to hear is that I routinely wallow in self-doubt. I know we've won battles, but the day we win the war still seem so far away if ever. Only Bradford has the same overview as I do, but he has unwavering faith in XCOM and in me. I wish I shared his optimism.

The day after Newfoundland, we held a small funeral service. We had many since the beginning. Each one was painful. This one was perhaps the most memorable. Angela, Mallory, Jake, Mark...even though they died under the claws and fangs of those monsters, I know it was my lack of foresight that got them killed. The four empty caskets are as much a monument to these brave men and women as it is a testament to my grievous failure. If not for my mistake, they would be home now, walking the halls of the base. Angela would be instructing the new recruits. Mallory would be training in the barracks. Mark would be on another losing streak as he bets the last of his chips on what would be another disastrous hand. And Jake...Jake would just be settling in.

It would have been just another day at XCOM.


End file.
